Poetry Spotlight: “Halcyon Days” by Derek Thiem

DEREK THIEM is a former English teacher and a street poet based in Portland, Oregon. His poetry and lyrics explore recovery, street life, and Portland’s ever-changing pulse. He occasionally dabbles in themes of astrophysics, metaphysics, and erotica, revealing the unexpected breadth of his creative mind. You can find him on Facebook and YouTube under his name, and hear his work set to music on Suno.com under the monikers VioletKeyboard944 and ExasperatingVocoder2004.

Halcyon Days

Once upon a time
Mostly between 1996 and 1999
But really, until the great tragedy of 9/11
When everyone dialed 911 on 911 2001
And two twin towers evaporated
Into fear in a mushroom cloud of dust
Before the needles grew rusty
And computer programs were trusty
At dusk people gathered in the twilight light
Of places like Twilo
And out of the mists of Avalon
Came the sound of records that would spin
At thirty three RPM’s until they
Cross faded out into the morning light of dawn
Upon this urban landscape were draped
The ethereal sounds of dance music
That entranced legions of
Drum and bass warriors
Strapped with AK 1200s
And the Dieselboy mechanics
Prepared spaceships to take flight
On Ecstatic dream flights to
The planet of the drums
DJ’s cast Shadows larger than life
And Krushed beats fresh squeezed
In their hands while commanding
Dance floors and empty fields and stadiums
Alike all at night and manipulated ravers
Twirling glow sticks through
The twiddling of knobs
Yes, Sasha dug Dig weed and everyone
On weed watched them bleed northern
Exposure bliss from track to track
Carl Cox rocked the box
And we trip hopped through fields
Of Funky Porcini eating mushroom jazz
With Mark Farina and went on LS Dreamy
Acid Z trips of mashed up rock and hip hop
We listened to abstract beats and pieces
Of wild samples while eating Coldcuts
If you accidentally spilled too many Chemicals
On one too many mornings or got lost
In a k hole there were Brothers
Who could work that out
There were Ninjas making Tunes
And you could take your Kid’s Koala
To a show
Amon Tobin made a Bricolage of music
And took us through Adventures in Foam
With Four Ton Praying Mantises
In the backdrop of the Nightlife
Even the Punks were Daft
Everyone waited the coming of the next
Prodigy to usher in
Music for a jilted generation
But he got caught smacking a bitch up
At a club somewhere
Too much living off the Fat of the Land
With all the Voodoo People
I heard they all drank poison
And it was a sad ending
Some still start fires in his name
And breathe deeply to remember his passing
In Bristol a Wild Bunch of lads had a
Massive Attack planned to put everyone
In a Karmacoma
It was Tricky but they all smoked some
More Cheeba and they would help
Bjork lay an egg in a swan dress I guess
Everyone lost their Portisheads when that
Happened but the dreary weather lead to
An eerie noir sound that was
Perfect for Sour Times
We danced Numb in the Mourning Air
And I think men and women alike lusted for
Beth Gibbons’ Glory Box
Steve laid down the law of the dark drums
The Brothers tried to make every beat big
But we’re nagged by Aphex’s Twin
Until they Surrendered and Let Forever Be
Paul came in two different flavors of trance
But I guess eventually Everything Everything
Got out of hand and it was like a trip
To the Underworld
Everything was ass backwards
The Fatboys were Slim
And there was no Space left to party
In Ibiza
Some people thought Moby was a dick for
Taking all those samples and
Commercializing them
But in my opinion he was no white whale
The industry had Strange Ways
But wasn’t made of Porcelain
It Fell Apart on its own
You can still catch a good show
Now and again
Some even go Above and Beyond
But really, it’ll never be the same